Tuesday, December 28, 2010
This is my story and I am here
There are times when I want to reach out and shake the people next to me and say I am here--can't you see me? can't you see my pain? my joy? my reality? I am here. Walking through life in the roles meant or intended for me--carrying out my "job" nurturing those around me, picking up the broken pieces of the lives around me, mending hearts, encouraging laughter. All the while with my own turmoils that I carry. How long do I carry you? I think as I look around~and then a surprise, someone reaches out and takes my hand and says, I see you. I see your story, I see your pain, your joy, your reality. I see that you are here carrying so much and I am here to help you carry this load. I do not know how to share. There is relief, and fear. I give up the known, the burdens of my life and allow them to be lifted in part by someone else? no matter how dear they are to me can they really know my joys and pains? can they really truly understand and lift the load I carry? A quick laugh reminds me to play, a small child's kiss and tender caress remind me that there is more to life than a to do list. A more organized soul than I reaches in and takes the list for a while. Interwoven in a society of love and caring. Interwoven with reservation yes, and yet that society has been here all along. functioning. at times we are oblivious to each other, at times we pretend we do not see despite that nagging urging to open eyes and hearts and arms. at times we see so much more than we should. And all the while it flows through us, this web of connectivity. There is not one without the others. Even those in isolation could not pride themselves on their ability to remain in solitude if there were not others for them to shun from their lives. Existence depends on the existence. And yet all the while as individual as the falling snow. We shine out our existence, like the fireflies bio luminescence. Our existence is good and ill in the lives of those around us. and yet despite whatever similarities we may have there is still that desire to reach out and shake those around us and say This is my story, this is my life. I am here. See me. Hear me. Understand me. This is my story, and I am here.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
When all else fails, drink warm milk, if that fails, you're screwed
So after lying in bed for 3 hours I got up. What else am I to do? I don't want to get involved in reading a book, besides my eyes are burning. I'm exhausted. I want sleep. I crave sleep. I feel I could fall over from exhaustion but then my head hits the pillow and I'm awake. I dread how early morning will come. Its Christmas. As soon as Jilly is conscious enough to realize Santa will have already been here there will be shrieks and screams of joy! and well worth it for her I might add. She is getting a pretty nice bundle from that Jolly old Elf. Its weird doing Christmas just the three of us. I think its the first time that has ever happened.
The first year Korey and I were married it was the 2 of us. The second year~I don't remember. I'll have to think about that. I am fairly certain that John was living with us. and that it might have been the year mom and dad went to texas and we entertained the folks who were around here at our place. The year after that I was on bed rest and couldn't do anything. Korey cooked the whole meal. I don't remember much of anything about it, if there were people here or not. If I remember right Cheryl and Josh were living here at the time. The next year, Korey was gone over Christmas so Jilly and I flew to Florida. The next year Min-Ji joined us for the first time. The year after that we added Jae-Min and Sung-Min. the year after that Min-Ji came home again for Christmas and we had Jae-Min, Sung-Min and Dae-ho. Last year we were at mom's and this year it's just Korey Jilly and I. It was a nice night. we all cooked dinner together. I had a break down and bawled for a bit. Then put on my apron and went back to work. the Ham was delicious. The potatoes and corn perfect. the new pasta Salad was pretty good, but not worthy of Christmas dinner repetition.
I said lets just let the dishes sit. Korey mentioned it would be a good 3 days before we got to them then. I said would that be so bad? I guess not.
I just felt so down, my energy was low...and I heard my mom say to me, "You'll feel better if you just get them done" So I unloaded the dishwasher, Korey joined in we loaded, and then he washed the rest, I dried and put away. Mom was right. It felt better. I felt better and now when we go down to see mom and pop Christensen, we won't be coming home to a messy house. the dishes are done.
Did it feel like Christmas eve? There were a couple of moments that did. I could tell Jilly felt every bit of its magic, and Korey was relishing the warmth of the holiday. I did okay. I made it wonderful even though I didn't feel it. and now having sipped my warm milk I suppose the only smart thing to do is to go crawl back in bed and see if maybe this time elusive sleep will find me. it's 3 am. any bets for what time Jilly will get up? she was so excited she didn't fall asleep until just after 10:30. it took 4 stories. 3 lullabies, an entire sleep CD, then her own lullaby CD back on, a massage with lavander oil and meditation and deep breathing. I finally said if you can hold still for 4 minutes I bet you'll be asleep. She finally held still and before the first minute was over she was out.
She's so excited about Christmas and I am so happy that despite my personal grief and my own inability to really get into Christmas I have created a magical experience for my daughter where she gets all that wonderment, the joy the thrill of it all the the excitement of seeing that Santa brought you exactly what you asked for...and then some.
I am excited to see her face when she realized she got exactly what she wished for.
I'm also really looking forward to sleep. Please merry christmas to me and bring on the ZZZzzzzz's
Friday, December 24, 2010
Its that old Bahumbug Magic
Life is a bunch of parodies. Extravagance mocked by its simplicity, and simplicity by the frantic rush to pull it off. I read today that if you want to be charismatic, you be charismatic.
I pause to allow that to sink in.
The main point was to hold your posture in the fashion of whom you wish to portray. Whichever version of your best self you want the world to see in that moment. Looking back in life I have most certainly mastered this in areas of my life. In the single dating world I was coy, approachable, and mysterious all at once. My laughter was contagious, my smile quick. My boundaries in tact. I knew what I wanted from a situation and allowed myself the freedom to explore the moment within my preset boundaries.
At times I would go to a party thinking 2 boys will ask for my number tonight. Often leaving with having been asked by 3 or 4. Giving it to perhaps 1.
I'm open and honest, and have a way of connecting with people. I'm always curious to know the story of the person sitting next to me, or standing by me in line. I want to know about the ins and outs of the religions of those around me. I want to learn. Do I compromise who I am or what I believe? No, it grows from the seeking of knowledge. I want to be empowered to know and understand more of the world and the culture around me.
My own mind is another story. I'm less eager to see what is in line there--push back the cobwebs and find boxes shoved in corners covered with dusty blankets intended to hide the contents inside. Some I know I can just purge without opening the box. Others...I sigh heavily knowing the process that will come. First in finding courage to open the box, then to sift through whatever remnants of my life it holds.
Somewhere is the box that holds the secrets to my weight. And why I put it on so quickly. And why I struggle to release it.
Over in a corner with a lamp shining on it next to a neon arrow flashing its "LOOK HERE" is a series of boxes. Some grief. Some joy. Some just memories unaffiliated with any emotion, they just are what they are. All of them connected in some way to my mom. That damn neon light showed up when her cancer became terminal. and has flashed louder and brighter with her passing and with each passing day. I've pulled a few files and memories and dusted them off and gone over them. I've shed tears that I didn't know were inside of me. Where is the power switch? I just want to not see that arrow right now.
under a window where you can sit on the boxes and look at the stars, are childhood magic and dreams. not really boxed, for it can't be contained. There's a stuffed dog, who truly comes to life and consoles and loves me whenever I need. No longer destroyed by mildew after a flood. He is whole and complete and waiting there by the window. The doll I earned by not wetting the bed, I lost her in Provo after we left for the summer. She isn't lost. She's sitting with my Christy doll who no longer has pen drawn on her face and her red hair shines like silk. they beacon me over to sit with them and Tenny and Mousie. and we gaze up at the wondrous sky. Somewhere out there is Santa Clause. And this year he's bringing Jilly exactly what she wished for. sitting by the window, the magic is real.
I shut the door on all of it shaking my head back to this reality--of a squeaking computer driving me nuts, knowing I should probably be working on last minute stocking stuffers, Finding the recipe for tomorrow's Christmas Ham. even prepping the rolls. but instead I'm here writing, trying to make sense of it all. My mom is dead. I can't bring her back. Its the first Christmas without her. The first year she didn't call me for the 4th time to remind her who she had in the gift rotation, or to find out when we would be by on Christmas day. The first year there won't be a box of honeycomb under the tree. Or cranberry juice. They are silly little things but they mattered. They were always there. She was always there. and without her, without those little touches it just feels like a humbug.
If it weren't for the magical dreams of my 4 year old daughter there would be no christmas in my house this year. I didn't decorate the whole house like I usually do. you can't see any signs of christmas from outside. The tree is even in the back of the house so it doesn't shine through the window.
and there is no snow.
it just doesn't feel like Christmas without snow. I mean it was RAINING! for crying out loud all day today, and yesterday. if it would have just dropped a few degrees...but no. Merry Christmas. look out the window and see dead grass, dead plants, my weeds that the snow should be hiding right now. its gloomy. and inside, well we have a tree. No table to sit around for Christmas dinner. we will eat around the island. the three of us. with this HUGE christmas ham and all that goes with it. Part of me just wants to order pizza and call it good. Korey looks forward to this ham all year. and I can't find the recipe. I have no idea where that book is! I really should be looking for that instead of going on and on about bahumbug and magic.
Hopefully enough of the shadows have shifted around to allow for rest to come now to my weary body. my weary soul. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. (well technically today since its now almost 2 am) and normally I am SO excited about the holiday and instead I'm wondering how late I can get away with just hiding in bed in the morning.
humbug.
I pause to allow that to sink in.
The main point was to hold your posture in the fashion of whom you wish to portray. Whichever version of your best self you want the world to see in that moment. Looking back in life I have most certainly mastered this in areas of my life. In the single dating world I was coy, approachable, and mysterious all at once. My laughter was contagious, my smile quick. My boundaries in tact. I knew what I wanted from a situation and allowed myself the freedom to explore the moment within my preset boundaries.
At times I would go to a party thinking 2 boys will ask for my number tonight. Often leaving with having been asked by 3 or 4. Giving it to perhaps 1.
I'm open and honest, and have a way of connecting with people. I'm always curious to know the story of the person sitting next to me, or standing by me in line. I want to know about the ins and outs of the religions of those around me. I want to learn. Do I compromise who I am or what I believe? No, it grows from the seeking of knowledge. I want to be empowered to know and understand more of the world and the culture around me.
My own mind is another story. I'm less eager to see what is in line there--push back the cobwebs and find boxes shoved in corners covered with dusty blankets intended to hide the contents inside. Some I know I can just purge without opening the box. Others...I sigh heavily knowing the process that will come. First in finding courage to open the box, then to sift through whatever remnants of my life it holds.
Somewhere is the box that holds the secrets to my weight. And why I put it on so quickly. And why I struggle to release it.
Over in a corner with a lamp shining on it next to a neon arrow flashing its "LOOK HERE" is a series of boxes. Some grief. Some joy. Some just memories unaffiliated with any emotion, they just are what they are. All of them connected in some way to my mom. That damn neon light showed up when her cancer became terminal. and has flashed louder and brighter with her passing and with each passing day. I've pulled a few files and memories and dusted them off and gone over them. I've shed tears that I didn't know were inside of me. Where is the power switch? I just want to not see that arrow right now.
under a window where you can sit on the boxes and look at the stars, are childhood magic and dreams. not really boxed, for it can't be contained. There's a stuffed dog, who truly comes to life and consoles and loves me whenever I need. No longer destroyed by mildew after a flood. He is whole and complete and waiting there by the window. The doll I earned by not wetting the bed, I lost her in Provo after we left for the summer. She isn't lost. She's sitting with my Christy doll who no longer has pen drawn on her face and her red hair shines like silk. they beacon me over to sit with them and Tenny and Mousie. and we gaze up at the wondrous sky. Somewhere out there is Santa Clause. And this year he's bringing Jilly exactly what she wished for. sitting by the window, the magic is real.
I shut the door on all of it shaking my head back to this reality--of a squeaking computer driving me nuts, knowing I should probably be working on last minute stocking stuffers, Finding the recipe for tomorrow's Christmas Ham. even prepping the rolls. but instead I'm here writing, trying to make sense of it all. My mom is dead. I can't bring her back. Its the first Christmas without her. The first year she didn't call me for the 4th time to remind her who she had in the gift rotation, or to find out when we would be by on Christmas day. The first year there won't be a box of honeycomb under the tree. Or cranberry juice. They are silly little things but they mattered. They were always there. She was always there. and without her, without those little touches it just feels like a humbug.
If it weren't for the magical dreams of my 4 year old daughter there would be no christmas in my house this year. I didn't decorate the whole house like I usually do. you can't see any signs of christmas from outside. The tree is even in the back of the house so it doesn't shine through the window.
and there is no snow.
it just doesn't feel like Christmas without snow. I mean it was RAINING! for crying out loud all day today, and yesterday. if it would have just dropped a few degrees...but no. Merry Christmas. look out the window and see dead grass, dead plants, my weeds that the snow should be hiding right now. its gloomy. and inside, well we have a tree. No table to sit around for Christmas dinner. we will eat around the island. the three of us. with this HUGE christmas ham and all that goes with it. Part of me just wants to order pizza and call it good. Korey looks forward to this ham all year. and I can't find the recipe. I have no idea where that book is! I really should be looking for that instead of going on and on about bahumbug and magic.
Hopefully enough of the shadows have shifted around to allow for rest to come now to my weary body. my weary soul. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. (well technically today since its now almost 2 am) and normally I am SO excited about the holiday and instead I'm wondering how late I can get away with just hiding in bed in the morning.
humbug.
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